All These Precious Moments
by connorxrisa897
Summary: A series of romantic vignettes in the lives and relationship of Connor and Risa, unseen moments that, logically, could have occurred. Takes place between Unwind and UnWholly, possibly some during UnWholly in later chapters. Probable fluff.
1. Doughnuts and Declarations (of love)

**Author's Note: Hello, lovely people! It's been far too long since I've published any fanfic that is solely my own, so I've begun this story. Right now, I'm not sure how many chapters it will eventually end up being, but I have at least three more planned out. Basically, the sub-genres of this fic will change chapter by chapter, but overall, this is a romance, a series of scenes in Connor and Risa's relationship. This first chapter takes place during **_**Unwind**_**, between sections 6 and 7. Please read and review! :-)**

**Disclaimer: The wonderful book **_**Unwind **_**is not my legal property. Neither are the characters of Connor and Risa. I simply like to play with them in order to have some shameless fluff that Shusterman would never allow us. **

It is in the sleepiest hours of early morning when Connor and Risa begin the return journey to the Graveyard. The ordeal at Happy Jack is finally over, all things have been settled, and with a bit of sketchy reasoning and bribery, every last piece of paperwork has been submitted. A kindly nurse at the hospital had managed to secure a wheelchair for Risa, and while it's a fairly clunky model, it will have to do for now. Lev has been hauled away to some kind of prison, and Connor's new identity has been serving him well. E. Robert Mullard even had a driver's license, buried underneath all the rubble from the explosion. All that securing it took was a little more digging.

Now, they drive on a desolate Arizona highway in an old white Toyota as the sun peeks over the horizon, illuminating the dashboard and making Connor squint. The car had been a gift from a tired old radiologist whose wife had recently passed away. He had informed the couple that two cars in the family were no longer a necessity, and the nondescript vehicle would be perfect for their purposes. Connor drives with one hand, munching on a warm doughnut with the other, having already drained his coffee. _Good thing Dunkin' Donuts is open 24 hours, _he thinks. _Caffeine and sugar are pretty helpful for driving at this hour. _

In the passenger seat, Risa dozes against the window, awake enough to keep her eyes open (well, sometimes), but not coherent enough for conversation. To Connor, she looks exhausted. The past few days have been stressful for both of them, and she's really been struggling with her paralysis. Successfully manipulating a wheelchair did not come easily for the feisty and independent girl, but she's learned, once again, to adapt to taking care of herself. In the back of Connor's mind, some selfish part of him had almost wished she would require his assistance for longer than she did. But the full impact of her disability on their relationship hasn't yet been established, so he figures it's best to stay out of her way.

The digital clock on the dashboard has just struck 6:30 when Risa pushes herself to a sitting position, and stretches, widening her eyes to let in the light. Connor looks over at her and smiles.

"Good morning," he says.

"Good morning, Connor," she yawns.

"Did you sleep well?"

"To be honest, no," she replies, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "You're not really the best driver, you know. Lots of sharp turns and sudden stops."

"Hey!" Connor exclaims, feigning offense. "I never even got my license! Obviously, my parents never taught me, because, well, they signed the unwind order, so what would have been the point? Not to mention that I haven't driven since November or so. I'm trying over here!"

"I know," she says, cracking a smirk in his direction. "It's a good thing there isn't anybody else on the road, though."

"Wouldn't want me running over any innocent civilians."

"Nope."

There's a brief moment where the only sound is the rushing of the freeway beneath the tires before Risa speaks again.

"So, Connor, do you have any doughnuts left? I seem to recall that buxom girl at the counter giving you a few extra on the house."

"You almost sound jealous," he teases.

"Of some chick working the midnight to eight A.M. shift at the Peoria Dunkin' Donuts. Yeah, I'm really jealous."

This makes Connor chuckle.

"I don't know, she was pretty cute."

"Shut up," she laughs. "So do we have any more doughnuts or not? I'm hungry!"

"Um..." he says, peering into the box. "I seem to have eaten most of them, but we have one jelly left."

"You're unbelievable," she snickers. "Raspberry?"

Connor nods in response.

"Good boy, you've left me my favorite. Now hand it over."

He obeys, choosing to simply drop the greasy box in her lap. Risa pulls out the oozing confection, and takes a bite, sighing in pleasure.

"I haven't eaten one of these in years," she declares, her words muffled by her full mouth. "Sometimes, my favorite nurse in the StaHo nursery would sneak me treats when I helped out there."

"Oh, yeah, I remember you telling me that you used to work with the babies," Connor says, nodding. "That was how you knew all those tricks to take care of Didi."

"Yeah, I'm glad to know that all those hours volunteering taught me something. I miss Didi," she suddenly confesses.

"Me too," he mutters. "But I know she's in good hands. Hannah's far more capable of child-rearing than we are."

"Well, right now," Risa says, afterwards looking like she wishes she hadn't said anything.

"Of course. I mean, I guess I could have kids at some point, I mean, we could, I mean... oh, forget I said anything," Connor trails off awkwardly.

"The good news is," Risa jumps in, trying to spare him any further embarrassment, "She's in a good home, with a good family, who can raise her in an actual house, and not a plane in the middle of the desert. And besides, we'll have to go back to Sonia's to get our letters eventually. Maybe we can see Didi then."

"Yeah," Connor murmurs. "I'd like that."

"Me too," Risa says. "That'll help with the 'Where do babies come from' discussion too. Can you imagine? 'Mommy, was I brought by the stork?' 'No, sweetie, you were brought to us by two screwed-up teenagers running from the Juvey-Cops!'" And with this, the two erupt into fits of laughter.

When the last of the giggling has ceased, quiet finally returns. Risa looks over to Connor, and meets his gaze.

"I love you," she says simply.

At first, Connor doesn't know how to respond. Certainly, the feeling is mutual, and she knows so. But isn't that the forbidden phrase? The point of return-only-by-heartbreak? Is Risa, Little Miss 'Don't Touch Me', and 'I Can Take Care of Myself' really opening herself up to the possibilities of a long-term relationship with him? And suddenly, Connor realizes the answer is yes. She loves him, and that is that.

"I love you too," he says, meaning it wholeheartedly. He puts his arm around her and pulls her close. She leans into him and this is how they stay, enduring the repetitive miles back to the Graveyard together.


	2. Simple Comfort

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Sorry that it's been forever since I've updated this story, life has been... hectic lately. So, I'm still not sure how long this is going to be, but I'll try to write whenever I have the time and inspiration. Thanks for reading, and please review! **

**(Also, this chapter takes place a little over a month after they get out of the hospital, and probably around the time of the last scene in Unwind.)**

**Disclaimer: No, Mr. Shusterman, before you ask, I'm not claiming that I own any part of Unwind or UnWholly. It's merely a not-for-profit hobby of mine to write cheesy fanfic. **

It's either very early or very late when Connor awakens from a dream, the content of which escapes him. The curtainless windows of his bedroom display the vast darkness outside, with the waning moon the only source of light. He kicks off his bedcovers, and struggles to open his eyes as his fingers fumble clumsily around on his nightstand, searching for the button that will illuminate his alarm clock. His effort is rewarded with a glaring blue glow when the device flickers to life, the large numbers pulsing as if mocking him: _3:07, 3:07, 3:07. _

Connor groans in the way most familiar to the parents of any teenager, and flops back onto his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to sleep. But unfortunately for him, his chronic insomnia seems to be kicking in again. After a few restless minutes of attempted slumber, he comes to the realization that it's not happening. His efforts for three more hours of easy bliss before the daily grind begins are futile.

With the epiphany of his sleeplessness finally sinking in, Connor knows that he must find something with which to occupy his remaining peace and quiet. Work will do him no good, as he would then just be stressed for a few more hours than normal. He has nothing to read, and all his small television shows at this hour are infomercials. The world may have gone through technological hell and back, but the Home Shopping Network seems to be immortal. All he has now is his last resort: waking up Risa, and hoping that she doesn't kill him for disturbing her.

Connor, obeying his impulse, hurriedly throws on his comfiest set of blue camo fatigues, secures the key to the ammo jet around his neck, lest anything happen to it while he's gone, and grabs a sweatshirt to guard against the cold night air. Connor figures the crazy temperatures are one reason why the Arizona desert isn't a popular vacation spot.

So he maneuvers quickly through the aisles of planes, feeling like the only person alive in the shadows of the disused aircrafts. They're generally regarded as no longer useful, and good for only their parts, just like all the kids that now occupy them. Eventually, he arrives at the wheelchair ramp of AcMac, Risa's new handicapped-accessible plane. Making sure to be quiet enough so that only she could hear him, he raps gently on the window of her bedroom. No answer. Most Graveyard jets aren't locked, for the purpose of maintaining authority and convenience to everyone, so, feeling guilty already, Connor gently opens the door.

Much to his chagrin, he sees as he peers in that Risa's in bed, looking to be asleep. But as he approaches, he notices that she's curled up tightly and shaking. He rushes to her bedside.

But his presence doesn't go unnoticed. When she sees him, she gasps slightly, then realizes who it is. She fights to push herself to a sitting position, and says angrily,

"Connor? What the hell are you doing here?"

Connor is embarrassed. Suddenly, his reason for disturbing her doesn't seem important.

"I... I couldn't sleep," he mutters sheepishly.

"You couldn't sleep."

"No."

"Oh, my God," she says, smacking her forehead in disgust. "So, you won't build a ramp so I can visit you in _your _jet, but _you_ can just come creeping up on me in _my _jet at three o' clock in the freaking morning because you can't sleep."

Connor chooses to ignore her comment about the ramp.

"Is this a bad time?" he asks, mentally kicking himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Risa won't even justify that with a response. She just lays back down, facing the wall instead of him.

Connor, unswayed, walks over and sits down on the edge of her bed.

"Hey," he murmurs gently. "Is everything okay?"

"To be honest, no," she says, finally turning to face him. To Connor's surprise, there are tears on her face.

"Risa, what's wrong?" he asks her, stroking her hair. She instinctively recoils from his touch, but then relaxes, letting his hands push the errant strands away from her tear-stained cheeks.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Risa, seriously, what is it?" he demands.

"The wheelchair. It's my stupid spine," she spits, new tears flowing from her eyes.

"What about it? I mean, I thought you were doing okay," he says, concerned.

"And that's just it," she sighs. "I mean, physically, I'm doing fine. My arms have gotten stronger, I've gotten used to wheeling myself wherever I need to go. My spine hasn't managed to screw itself up any worse than it already has. It's just that I always forget. I'll wake up in the morning and end up falling out of bed because my legs can't support me. And just about an hour ago, I woke up, and I was thirsty. But my water cooler's on the other side of the room, and all because this plane's tilted at an angle, my wheelchair rolled away during the night again. And all I could think of is that I'm so useless, because I can't even get myself a glass of water."

"Risa, you're not-" Connor protests, but he is quickly cut off.

"Yes, I am," Risa sobs. "And that's not all. I'm just a burden around here, a burden to the Graveyard and a burden to you. Don't pretend it's not true, because I know that I'm not doing any good."

"But that's not true!" he exclaims. "Risa, you're far more useful around here than anyone I can think of. Just because you can't run messages or disassemble engine parts, that doesn't make you a burden. You play piano for the new kids, and think how much they love that! The other night, when you were practicing, you must have had an audience of thirty, at least, most of which didn't seem like the type to like Chopin. And, for God's sake, you're head medic! You've taken care of so many people, and how long have we been back? Like, six weeks!"

"But what about you?" Risa asks flatly. "I can't imagine 'being stuck with a paralyzed girlfriend' ranked high on your list of possible futures. It's not me that I'm worried about, it's you. Are you going to be able to stay on top of everything around here even when I'm there distracting you? I mean, if you don't have time or whatever, I really do understand."

"First of all, you are most welcome to distract me any time you wish," Connor says, smiling impishly. "And secondly," he adds, the seriousness returning to his voice. "Risa, I will always have time for you. There are always more hours in the day. And of course I'll be able to keep on top of things. The Graveyard's doing better than it ever has! True, this job is crap, but it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, I have you," he whispers, pressing his lips softly to her forehead. "You keep me sane. I've become a much better person in the last few months, and I have you to thank for it. I need you, Risa, to keep me going and make sure I don't screw anything up. Without you, I would've gotten my ass hauled to the Juvies the first day we met. And even when I thought there was no good left in the world, you were the exception. I know it's not much in the way of reassurance, but I want you to know that after all we've been through, I honestly could not live without you. No matter what happens, I need you. I want us to always have each other, wheelchair or no wheelchair. Now, would you like some water?"

"Yeah," Risa chokes out, simultaneously sobbing and laughing. Connor stands up, and walks to the water cooler inconveniently placed at the other end of the room. He fills up one of the small paper cups and returns to Risa's bedside. She takes the cool refreshment, and rapidly gulps it down. "Thank you," she says, placing the empty cup on her nightstand. "For everything."

"Not a problem," Connor tells her, heading out the door.

"Connor!" she calls, prompting him to stop in his tracks. "Will you stay with me? Please?"

Knowing full well that this nothing but a matter of comfort, he looks at the bare accommodations of the room, unsure of where she wants him. She lightly pats the small space next to her in the bed, and motions for him to come closer. He sits down, and kicks off his boots, as well as pulling off the sweatshirt, which now seems far too warm for indoor use. Connor lays down, resting his head next to Risa's on the pillow, their faces only inches apart.

"Good night," she says, bridging the gap and kissing him. He can taste the remnants of salty tears on her lips.

"Good night." She rolls over, scooting so that they're pressed together, her back to his chest. Connor nuzzles his face into the tender place where her jaw meets her neck, and wraps his own arm around her, still using the utmost caution with Roland's. Within minutes, they are both asleep, breathing in unison, and all is quiet in the Graveyard.


End file.
